This Battle
by xpiester333x
Summary: Maybe he'd died, he figured, he had been bleeding pretty badly. Maybe this was his afterlife. Zoro-centric.


This battle, like most of Zoro's battles, had been bloody. Most of it was his enemy's blood, of course, and as a result the victory was his. Even so, it had cost him, and a fair amount of the blood that was splashed about and covering him was his own. It was an occupational hazard when you fought using sharp objects, and when your opponent did as well, the results were bound to end up this way.

Typically, Chopper was somewhere nearby and he'd been on the scene in a flash ready to berate Zoro for his lack of concern for his life while stitching and bandaging him back into perfect condition. At the moment though, Zoro had no idea where Chopper was. Probably busy with his own battle, or maybe seeing to that shitty love cook, or at least Zoro kind of hoped so, it would be nice to know Sanji got just as beat up as he did.

So, at the moment, there was no doctor-bordering-on-miracle-worker nearby to help him, and Zoro was starting to feel a little disoriented from his loss of blood. Well… more than a little. He could feel himself staggering, his legs faltering a little under the weight of his body, and his vision was starting to darken, until only the patch of earth ahead of him, the one he was willing himself to reach, was visible. Even that solid piece of land seemed to tilt slightly, or so he thought, until his body hit the ground and he realized it wasn't the earth that had been tilting like that, it was him.

Some part of him realized it was pointless to keep moving. He could get back up again, sure, but it wouldn't be long before he ended up back here again. The hard packed street felt as comfortable as a feather mattress anyway. His vision blackened (or maybe he'd closed his eyes, he really had no control over his body anymore) and he gave in; he was long overdue for a nap anyway.

* * *

He was on the precipice of… something. It was like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, a hair's breadth away from tipping over, but when he opened his eyes he couldn't see any distinguishable geographical landmarks at all. His feet were on solid ground, or what felt like solid ground, though the shape and texture of it seemed indistinguishable. It was like grey smoke that swirled around him, creating shapes and patterns that were vaguely familiar before they scattered once more.

The feeling of standing on the edge of something hadn't diminished since he'd opened his eyes, despite the visual assurance that he wasn't going to fall from a ledge. It seemed even stronger now, in fact. Perhaps it was the lack of sensation – there were no sounds or scents here, and the air was the same temperature as his skin – there was nothing to give any indication of where he was now. Perhaps that put him on edge, though aside from the balanced feeling in his gut, he felt perfectly at ease.

Maybe he'd died, he figured, he had been bleeding pretty badly. Maybe this was his afterlife. That thought made him slightly angry, although the anger felt strangely subdued, as if this place wouldn't let him feel emotions that strongly. But the anger was there, however weak it was, when he thought that he had died without fulfilling his promise. Was this all his strength was worth? Pathetic.

A figure appeared, parting the mist around it as if it could manipulate it at will. Zoro didn't feel threatened by the approaching form; he was dead already, he doubted anything could hurt him here. Instead, he watched it approach with calm resignation.

Maybe if it was the figure of Death he could defeat it.

A woman came into view. Her hair was long, straight, and raven black, the complete opposite of her skin, which was as white as the purest snow. Her clothing was elaborate and traditional, a combination of white and black as well that seemed to complete her monochromatic look. The only things that broke this color scheme were the golden earring in her ears and the warm gold-yellow eyes that fixed on him.

She reminded him of Kuina, in a way. Her appearance was different, but there was something about her that felt the same as his old childhood rival. They were the same, it felt like, but different.

"Wado Ichmonji," He said, his voice echoing around the seemingly endless space.

When she spoke, his ears detected nothing. Rather, the sound of her voice seemed to come from inside him, resonating from his soul. He couldn't hear the words, but he knew them as she spoke.

"_You're not finished yet," _her voice chided him. _"Is this really where you want your journey to end?" _

The answer to that, of course, was no. He still had his promise to fulfill. He still needed to become the world's greatest. It wasn't just his dream that was important anymore either. He needed to help make Luffy the pirate king, and help Nami make her map. That stupid cook needed to find his mythical ocean, and Usopp still had a long way to go before he became the brave warrior of anything. Chopper was an amazing doctor, but he still had a long way to go before he could cure anything. Franky's ship needed to make it in one piece to the end of their journey (although Zoro wasn't sure if he was more a help or a hindrance there), Brook needed to meet with Laboon again, and Robin needed to find the Rio whatchamacallit – some history thing.

Their dreams had become as important to him as his own, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to help them all accomplish them. If he died now, he had nothing, not his own dream, and not any of theirs. He wasn't just letting himself and Kuina down, he was letting his nakama down as well.

Dying sounded pretty stupid, really.

It seemed he didn't even need to speak for Wado to hear his answer. Of course he didn't, he was bonded with his swords to the very soul. She smiled softly when she felt him harden his resolve, a wave of approval washing over him from her. Approval, and pride.

"_Good," _she nodded. _"Then… wake up."_

* * *

When Zoro came to, Chopper was cursing his name and Sanji was standing some distance away, a pile of spent cigarette butts littering the ground around his feet.

"Zoro, you idiot," Chopper was saying. "Stop bleeding all over the place."

"Okay," he replied. His throat felt cracked and dry, and the word came out a lot thicker than he would have liked.

Chopper started at the sound of his voice and looked up from the wound he was working on. "You're alive!" He squeaked, sounding suspiciously surprised.

"'course," Zoro muttered, swallowing a few times to get his throat working correctly. "What d'you expect?"

"We were kind of hoping you were dead for good this time," the cook snapped, though the pile of cigarettes seemed to disagree with his statement.

"Hah, you wish," Zoro said, and attempted to push himself up. The spinning in his head stopped him before the massive hand of Chopper in his human form did.

"I'm not done yet!" Chopper reprimanded him. "You lost a lot of blood! You're lucky to be alive at all!"

"Nah," Zoro denied. He did lay himself back down though, deciding to be a good patient for once and let Chopper stitch him back together.

"I just wasn't ready to die yet."


End file.
